The news of Silver Vine's disappearance caused quite a stir in Emberfire City.
Inside the Adventurers' Guild hall, the area before the task board—once bustling and crowded—had grown much quieter.
A few adventurers who had originally been eager to accept the mid-tier scouting commission now looked at the notice offering fifty gold coins, their expressions shifting from temptation to hesitation.
"If a Fourth-Tier party got wiped out, wouldn't we just be sending ourselves to our deaths?" whispered a Second-Tier warrior.
"Who said they were wiped out? Maybe they just got lost."
The person next to him spoke reassuringly, but their body honestly took two steps back.
"Hey, didn't another party go out looking for them afterward?"
"Looking, my foot! Those guys came back the very next day. They probably didn't even make it a few steps into the Whispering Forest."
...
Behind the counter, Harold listened to these discussions, his face darkening.
When a task ended in a disaster, the guild bore partial responsibility.
Although the quest notice explicitly stated "at your own risk," dead adventurers were never good for business—especially in a small city like Emberfire City, which was already short on manpower.
Thanks to that noble young master's rallying calls, the guild's adventurer numbers had only recently begun to pick up; there was simply no room for a major catastrophe now.
Though he felt that way, Harold couldn't think of any actual solution.
Sevein soon received the news as well.
In his hostel room, he listened to Morris finish his report, falling into a long silence.
"Young master," Morris said, closing his notebook.
"Should we temporarily suspend the mid-tier scouting commission?"
"No." Sevein shook his head.
"Suspending the task will only cause more panic among the adventurers. Besides, I need to know what the Silver Vine party actually ran into."
He stood up and walked over to the window.
The northern section of the Whispering Forest was a route that merchant caravans had to pass through. If the threat couldn't be completely eliminated, the price paid for border trade in the future would far exceed what they were spending now.
"Morris, make the arrangements. Tomorrow, I'll visit the Adventurers' Guild and speak with Harold in person."
"I will fund and assemble a stronger scouting team myself—at least Fourth-Tier, five people, to penetrate deep into the northern forest."
"Are you going in person, young master?"
"No, I won't be going." Sevein turned around.
"I'm only providing funding and organizing it, but I will have Garland accompany the team."
Morris's eyebrows twitched slightly.
Deploying Garland meant Sevein attached far greater importance to this matter than to any of the previous routine commissions.
An Eighth-Tier warrior accompanying a scouting party deep into the forest was no longer a "reconnaissance"—it was more like an "expedition."
"Young master, Master Garland was sent by the lord to protect you. If..."
"I know," Sevein said, his tone calm.
"When I studied at the Magic Academy, my mentor told me: if you don't crush bad things as soon as they rear their heads, matters will only grow worse later."
"Besides, Father sent me to the border to handle affairs, not to hide like a turtle shrinking into its shell."
"As for my safety..."
Sevein touched the ring on his left ring finger—set with a deep blue magic gemstone—and gave a confident smile.
"I will be fine."
Morris glanced at Sevein and bowed slightly.
"You speak rightly, young master. This old servant will arrange it immediately."
...
Two days later, a five-person scouting party set out from Emberfire City, heading straight for the northern part of the Whispering Forest.
The leader was a Fifth-Tier ranger named Rayne, who had been active around Emberfire City for seven or eight years and was fairly familiar with the terrain of the Whispering Forest.
The party also included a Fourth-Tier warrior, a Fourth-Tier mage, a Fourth-Tier rogue, and Garland.
Garland wore his old-style warrior armor, with an unadorned kingdom legion standard longsword hanging at his waist. He walked at the back of the group, as silent as a moving boulder.
The other four had all heard of Garland's strength, but none dared strike up a conversation with him.
Throughout the entire departure, he had spoken only a single word: "Move." Then he never opened his mouth again.
...
In the southwestern corner of the Whispering Forest.
The old priest, Grisnak, had returned, bringing back news that surprised Kael.
"My lord, that gnoll came to see this old one."
On the riverbank, Kael was practicing a spell called Magic Barrier. Hearing this, he retracted his dragon claws, letting the magic disperse.
"What did it say?"
The old priest's expression was grim. Leaning on his bone staff, he sat down on a stone in front of Kael, panted for two breaths, and slowly spoke:
"Its name is Zhar. It is now a mid-level chieftain in the gnoll tribe."
"Zhar said that the altar in the tribe was built by that 'lord' who came to their tribe three years ago."
"What is the background of that 'lord'?"
"Zhar couldn't explain clearly. It only said that it wasn't a gnoll, nor any race it had ever seen before."
"It wore black robes and never took off its hood. Its voice... Zhar said that the voice didn't sound like it came from its mouth, but rather from inside its body."
Kael's vertical pupils narrowed slightly.
"What did it teach the gnolls?"
"A ritual. Zhar calls it 'Blood Moon Descent.' It requires sacrificing the blood of living beings on the altar to open a 'gate.'"
"Zhar said it doesn't know where that gate leads, but it saw it once when the gate opened a crack. Inside was a red light, and an aura that made its bones turn cold."
"Living beings..." Kael rapidly searched through his draconic heritage.
"What did it sacrifice?"
"At first, magical beasts. Later, when magical beasts weren't enough, it started using other intelligent creatures... even humans."
As the old priest said this, his voice trembled slightly.
"Is there any news about the human adventurers who barged into the forest?"
"Yes. Zhar said the tribe recently captured three, all Fourth-Tier practitioners."
Kael closed his eyes briefly.
"When will the next ritual begin?"
"Zhar said when the next blood moon hangs in the sky—ten days from now."
"The chieftain plans to sacrifice all three humans at once on that day to complete the full 'Blood Moon Descent' ritual."
Ten days. Three living people to be sacrificed.
Kael opened his eyes, the sunlight reflecting in his golden vertical pupils.
"If the ritual is completed, what will happen?"
"Zhar doesn't know. But it said the chieftain told the warriors of the tribe that once the 'gate' opens, they will all become stronger."
In his draconic heritage, Kael found a relevant record—an Evil God Descent ritual.
Chromatic dragons were no strangers to evil gods.
(Evil gods were among the oldest and most dangerous entities on the Continent of Veland.
They were born in the void beyond the world, possessing indescribable forms and power far surpassing demons and ordinary deities.
An evil god's true essence was too vast and twisted to enter the Prime Material Plane directly, as the laws of the Prime Material Plane would reject them.
Therefore, if an evil god wished to descend, it had to use a "vessel.")
(The requirements for a vessel were extremely harsh: it had to be an intelligent creature with sufficient soul strength, preferably a practitioner.
The higher the tier, the greater the evil god's power it could harbor.
The vessel's body and soul would be "reshaped" during the ritual, turning into a container for the evil god in the material plane.
Once the ritual was complete, the vessel's original consciousness would be erased, and the evil god's will would take over the shell.)
The more Kael read, the heavier his expression became.
Those three adventurers were all Fourth-Tier practitioners.
The soul strength of three Mid-Tier practitioners was enough to harbor a formidable avatar of an evil god.
If the ritual succeeded, those three adventurers would no longer be themselves—they would be vessels for an evil god.
A monster possessing the body of a Mid-Tier practitioner yet imbued with the power of an evil god would run amok in the Whispering Forest.
"Dammit," Kael cursed under his breath.
He had originally intended to stay out of it.
What did humans and gnolls beating each other to death have to do with him, a dragon?
But if an evil god descended through those three vessels, then it would concern him.
Evil gods were not demons. Demons were dangerous, but they at least operated within "rules." They could be temporarily slain, sealed away, or banished.
Evil gods, on the other hand...
Kael saw a chilling record within his draconic heritage:
(An evil god's true body cannot be destroyed.
They exist within the void, without form, without end.
An evil god's vessel in the material plane can be destroyed, but the evil god itself will merely retreat to the void, waiting for the next opportunity to descend.
And each descent leaves behind permanent "corruption" in the material plane. Land eroded by an evil god's power becomes desolate, living creatures undergo mutations, and the entire area becomes shrouded in twisted power.)
The dragon mother's aura could intimidate Mid-Tier and lower magical beasts, but an evil god's power did not belong to this world. Kael had no idea whether that dragon majesty would work against an evil god's vessel.
"Grisnak, what else did that gnoll say? Where exactly is the ritual being held?"
"Zhar said the altar where the ritual is held sits on an open clearing at the center of the tribe."
"The tribe is located in the northern forest. Follow the largest river upstream until you reach an area of gray rocks, and you will see it."
"How many gnolls are in the tribe? What tier is the chieftain?"
"Roughly over three hundred. Ordinary ones are First-Tier to Third-Tier, while elite warriors are Fourth-Tier to Fifth-Tier—about thirty or so. The chieftain..." The old priest swallowed hard.
"Zhar said the chieftain is a Seventh-Tier gnoll warrior."
Seventh-Tier.
Kael's dragon body tensed slightly.
He was currently only Third-Tier. A Seventh-Tier gnoll chieftain was an insurmountable mountain to him.
No matter how gifted he was or how strong his magic was, a Third-Tier fighting a Seventh-Tier was pure suicidal madness.
"What about that black-robed fellow? What tier is he?"
"Zhar said... it couldn't tell. But it felt that the black-robed person was no weaker than the chieftain."
Kael remained silent for a long time.
The cavern grew so quiet that only the wind whistling through the entrance could be heard.
"Grisnak," Kael finally spoke, his voice flat.
"You have done well. This information is extremely important."
"To serve my lord is this old one's duty." The old priest bowed.
"After you return, have Zhar remain in the tribe. Maintain contact with that gnoll, and if there is any change in the date of the ritual, notify me immediately."
"Yes."
"One more thing." Kael stopped the old priest just as he was about to leave.
"Tell Grok to step up patrols in the middle of the forest. If any human team heads deep to the north, I want to know right away."
After the old priest left, Kael lay alone on the boulder for a long time, until the starry sky became visible.
Ten days.
He had ten days to decide: whether to stay out of it and gamble that the evil god's descent wouldn't affect the dragon lair, or to strike at a crucial moment and attempt to stop the ritual from completion.
If he acted, he couldn't possibly confront the Seventh-Tier gnoll chieftain and that mysterious black-robed figure head-on.
But if he didn't act...
Kael recalled the records regarding evil god descents in his draconic heritage.
Those scenes were terrifying beyond any dragon-hunting tale: the earth splitting open, the sky turning a bizarre purple, and countless creatures undergoing twisted mutations under the erosion of evil god power...
"Is there a possibility..." Kael's dragon claws slowly traced the ground.
"...that I don't need to do it myself?"
He thought of that noble mage who brought a guard.
If humans found out that gnolls were conducting an Evil God Descent ritual, what would they do?
A High-Tier warrior, a big shot in Emberfire City, plus a group of Mid-Tier adventurers—this force would be more than enough to handle a Seventh-Tier gnoll chieftain.
"Borrowing a knife to kill..." A faint smile twitched at the corner of Kael's mouth before returning to calm.
However, he quickly thought of another problem: even if humans fought the gnolls, what about that black-robed figure? If the black-robed person's strength exceeded Seventh-Tier, the human force might not be enough.
Furthermore, once the Evil God Descent ritual started, those three vessels would be "reshaped."
If it wasn't interrupted in time, irreversible changes would still happen to those three vessels.
"What a pain..." Kael sighed deeply.
Lying on the boulder, his dragon tail drooped, and his golden vertical pupils gazed at the sky full of stars while his mind raced.
In the end, he made a decision:
Wait and watch for now, letting the humans serve as the knife.
If the humans could handle it, he'd happily enjoy his peace; if they couldn't...
...then he'd have to figure out how to secretly lend a hand without exposing himself, or risk his life to awaken his beloved mother.
He had the "Turn a Blind Eye" talent, a brain capable of improvising and combining spells, and... perhaps he really could...
"Starry sky," Kael whispered.
"I hope this time, I won't have to step onto the battlefield myself."
Starlight fell upon his dragon scales, glistening with a faint shimmer.
There was no response.
Yet Kael couldn't help feeling as though those stars were saying: In your dreams.
Rate on N.U.
